Unmarriageable(12)

‘We can certainly do with the money,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Free kaa food drive! You’d better not take anything from the pantry without telling me. Good deeds! All this girl does is watch tennis all day long and wheeze whenever it suits her purpose.’

Mari glowered. How she wished yet again that she’d got into medical school or that some pious man would marry her and take her away from her family. The first sister married. Then her mother would surely think the world of her.

‘Since we can’t afford brand names,’ Lady said, ‘the next best thing is to become as skeletal as possible. Hillima, can you make sure the cook prepares diet foods for me for the next two weeks before NadirFiede?’

Hillima, sitting by them and gawking at European models on the fashion channel, nodded.

‘I’m not going to NadirFiede.’ Qitty looked up from her sketchbook. ‘I’m sick of going to places surrounded by skinny girls fishing for compliments by complaining how fat they are.’

‘I’m not going either,’ Mari said. ‘I don’t approve of these ostentatious weddings, when Islam requires a simple ceremony.’

‘I swear, Mari,’ Lady said, ‘no one is going to marry you except a gross mullah with a beard coming down to his toes, and once he finds out what a party pooper you are, you’ll be the least favourite of his four wives.’

‘The only party worth worrying about,’ Mari said, ‘is the one after death, and if you don’t change your ways, Lady, you’re going to end up in hell.’

Mrs Binat slapped her forehead. ‘Mari and Qitty, you’re attending NadirFiede, whether you like it or not. Qitty, lose five pounds and you will feel much better.’

Qitty glared at her mother. She hadn’t had a single samosa so far, but now she popped one whole into her mouth.

‘See, Mummy!’ Lady said. ‘She doesn’t want to be thin.’

‘Shut up,’ Qitty said. ‘You’ve had six. Mari is right. You’re going to go to hell, Bathool.’

Lady had originally been named after Mr Binat’s mother, but after bullies at school rhymed ‘Bathool’ with ‘stool’, ‘cesspool’, ‘drool’, et cetera, Mrs Binat insisted Mr Binat allow her a legal name change. Bathool chose Lady, from the animated film Lady and the Tramp, even though her sisters cautioned against renaming herself after a cartoon dog, no matter how regal.

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones,’ Lady said to Qitty, ‘but names, hippo, will never hurt me.’

Mrs Binat half suppressed a smile.

Qitty was livid. ‘This is why she calls me names, Mummy. Because you favour her.’

‘God knows,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘I never play favourites. Qitty, I’m your friend, not your enemy, and I’m simply saying what is best for you. These days, you girls are expected to be the complete package. Gone are the days when a woman could get away with a single asset like a pair of fine eyes or a tiny waist. Now you have to be a bumshell.’

‘Bombshell,’ Mr Binat corrected her. ‘Bom, not bum.’

Mrs Binat flashed her eyes at her husband. ‘Please, Qitty, for my sake try to lose some weight before NadirFiede. No one wants to marry a fat girl.’

‘You wait, Mummy,’ Qitty said. ‘Bathool the Fool is going to do something so unforgivable one day that my being fat will be nothing in comparison. You should have seen the way she was making you-you eyes at the motorbike brigade outside of school today.’

‘Liar!’ Lady said. ‘Why should I make you-you eyes at motorbike boys? Although some are so handsome, while too many Rich Men are ugly.’

Mrs Binat squinted. ‘The uglier and darker the Rich Men, all the better for you, because they are actively hunting for fair and lovely girls to balance out their genes.’

‘Mummy,’ Lady said, ‘would you have married Daddy if he was ugly?’

‘Luckily for me,’ Mrs Binat said, ‘your father was handsome as well as rich. Alas, he was also unwise and so I became a tale of rags to riches, riches to rags. He let the corrupt Goga and Tinkle completely dupe him. Anyway, God is watching, and it is said the children will suffer for the sins of their parents.’

‘Pinkie, please.’ Mr Binat sat up. ‘How many times must I say, Goga’s and Tinkle’s children did nothing to us; leave them out of it.’

‘Daddy, calm down.’ Alys got up to kiss her father’s cheek. ‘Shall I get you fresh chai?’

‘Daddy’s chamchee, his toady,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘Run and get him a bucket of chai, so he can drown of shame in it.’

‘Hai, Mummy,’ Lady said, ‘how shameful it will be when we arrive at the events in our saddha hua Suzuki dabba. That car is so embarrassing.’

‘Can you please,’ Jena said, ‘be grateful for the fact that we at least have a car? Anyway, Lady, why would you want to marry someone who cares only about the make of your car or the size of your house?’

‘How is that any different from marrying someone because they are smart or nice?’ Lady said. ‘Criteria is criteria!’

‘Too many people marry for the wrong reasons,’ Jena said. ‘They should be looking for kindness and intelligence.’

‘Jena, my sweet girl, you are too idealistic,’ Mrs Binat said. ‘On that note, Jena, Alys, if anyone asks your age, just change the subject. I so wish you’d stop telling everyone your real ages, but it is the fashion to think your mother unwise and never listen to her.’